


Nightblindness

by RachWigg



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: 1x2, Also Heero trying to emote is cute, Confused Duo is adorable, Depression, Get Together, M/M, PTSD, background 3x4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachWigg/pseuds/RachWigg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Endless Waltz. Heero struggles to reintegrate into society 5 years after the end of the last war. Duo, gone due to a falling out and subsequent undercover work with Preventers, reappears. They begrudgingly become allies in their reintegration efforts, but a call to renew their working partnership complicates the issue. At it's heart, a 1x2 get together fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reintegration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Heero is reflective, Relena drinks wine, and snarky Trowa is snarky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't own Gundam Wing. No money being made here, and all ideas are my own.

**Chapter 1: Reintegration**

There were certain things that made him more introspective than usual.  Heero had learned this about himself.  The mechanical process of dismantling and cleaning a fire arm, the moment after a successful take off when he first felt the weightlessness of space, or the sleep deprived fuzziness of an all-night stake out.  Introspective was the word the Preventer employed therapist used, and he supposed it was appropriate.  Generally, his focuses were external.  Even six years after the Eve Wars, he was still often accused of single mindedness.  The mission.  A programing problem.  These things seemed, to him, much more deserving of his attention than his own inner workings.  And yet, as time progressed, he found himself pondering things the therapist mentioned long after those begrudgingly given sixty minutes had passed.

“Heero?”

Ah, yes.  Things like how he should try to stay in the present moment.  Self-examination and remaining present seemed at odds to him, but, then again, the inner working of the human psyche weren’t his area of expertise.  Thus, the therapist.

“I should never let you drink wine.”

Right, the present.  Another situation that made him reflective was drinking a glass of wine with Relena.

“I’m sorry.  I was just thinking.”

She gave him a small smile.  “I could almost see the wheels turning.”

The guests, mostly political officials from around the Earth Sphere, had left the conference building at least an hour ago, and the rest of Heero’s security unit had been dismissed some thirty minutes after that.  He didn’t usually do this sort of security detail, but Relena was an important political figure, and she enjoyed seeing him during her trips to L1.  If the shrink was to be believed, he enjoyed seeing her as well.  Perhaps that was why he had allowed himself to be ushered toward the booth in the back corner of the conference center’s small bar.  It wasn’t the first time Relena had coaxed him into a drink and what, for him, passed as a conversation.

“I was just thinking about how being around you clears my mind,” he told her honestly.  Her head quirked to the side slightly, and her eyes narrowed at him, but not unkindly.  Amusement?  He guessed at her emotions.  Understanding the motivations of an enemy came easily, especially if that enemy was intelligent.  Calculated moves and countermoves made logical sense, and they were always focused on an end game.  Interpersonal interactions were much more difficult.  Especially with Relena.  He could never quite parse out her motivations.

“Are you sure it’s not the wine?  That’s my main tool for clearing my head at the end of the day.”  The sides of her mouth turned up, and he decided amusement had been correct.  “Do tell though, what have you been bouncing around in that brain of yours that needs clearing out?”

He shrugged one shoulder, a casual bit of body language he was toying around with these days. “Just considering something the therapist said yesterday.”

Relena nodded approvingly.  “I’m glad to hear you’ve stuck with it.”

“It’s not an easy thing,” he paused, “You know I was having a difficult time before.”  He paused again, it was hard to talk about that period.  “But I do see how it is making my life more manageable.”

 “A very logical conclusion Mr. Yuy.”

“And it’s not like I have much say in the matter.  It seems the Reintegration Program is more protracted   for some.  Myself included.”  And Trowa.  He knew Quatre and Wufei had been cleared from their mandatory course of reintegration nearly three years ago.  He supposed having some semblance of a normal upbringing did provide advantages in a few areas.

“I’m sure it frustrating to be required to participate.  I know Duo has said as much.”

“Duo?”  That was a name he hadn’t heard spoken in some time.

“Um-hum.”  She toyed with her wine glass, swirling the red liquid.  “He helped my people with some security issues when I was touring L2 in March.  It was nice of him to help out during his time off.  I know they don’t usually give him much of a break between undercover operations.”

“Not much, no.”  Duo had been undercover on L3 for two years.  Heero knew the operation had been successful, he’d seen the reports.  The gun smugglers had been mostly small time, but the ring had been large and diffuse.  Taking down each band had been time consuming.

“He’ll be around here in a few days though, correct?”  Heero looked at her blankly.  Relena smiled at him again.  “That’s why he was frustrated I think.  He says they want him to focus on reintegration.  Something about undercover work preventing his progress.”  Suddenly she smiled outright and clapped her hands together.  Heero though she looked her twenty-two years, dropping the political persona, which often seemed to age her. “I know! I’ll be on L1 for another week more.  We should all meet up.  Quatre will be in for the last few days of the conference.  Noin and Sally would be so pleased.  And I haven’t seen everyone in one place in five years!  Not since the celebration after the end of the war.”

That brought Heero up short.  Had it been five years?  There had been a ball on earth.  The dedication of some sort of war memorial.  He had just started with Preventers, and Une had made attendance mandatory for all of them.  Duo had gotten Quatre roaring drunk, and Heero and Duo had ended up in a fist fight after the latter made one too many attempts to persuade Heero to dance with Relena.  Heero found himself smirking; that had been a fun night.

“Look at you,” Relena was practically beaming now.  “You look like you might even come without a formal summons from your boss?”

“I’m meant to be making attempts at being more social.”

“It’s settled then,” she declared with some finality.  “I’ll contact everyone and make the arrangements.  Now stop nursing that drink will you?  I need to get back to my hotel soon.  Tomorrow will be an early start for me, so it will be earlier for you I imagine.”  Heero complied, draining the rest of his glass.  She regarded him for a moment in silence, still amused he though.  Or maybe something else?  “I bet you’ll never accuse me of helping to clear you mind again.” 

“No,” he shook his head, “I stand by it.  Being around you is like cleaning a gun.”

She attempted to look annoyed, but quickly gave in to the smile that played across her face.  “Heero Yuy, I do think you believe that to be a compliment.”

\--

Heero looked up as the door to his office opened.

“I suppose I have you to thank for this?”  Trowa leaned against the frame of his door, glowering at him.

“Don’t thank me, I’m sure Quatre is the one forcing you to accept the invitation.”

“Hum.  I’m not the one having drinks with the Vice Foreign Minister and inspiring her social ambitions.”

Heero wasn’t sure when Relena had found time to work out the details in the past two days, but after seeing she was secure in her hotel, he had returned to Preventer’s HQ to find an email informing him of a small gathering at one of the Winner estates on L1 that coming Saturday.  "Quatre’s in on it.”

“Yes, but being angry with him is too much effort.”

“Not my problem Barton.”  Trowa rolled his head back, looking up toward the ceiling.  Exasperation?  Trowa was more difficult to read than Relena.  “Duo might be there.”  Trowa’s eyes snapped down to Heero’s again.

“He’s back from L2?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Hum.”  Heero noted that this was a particularly long conversation between the two of them, especially considering it wasn’t work related.  “Why do you suppose they clear him for undercover ops and not the two of us?”  Well, so much for that.

“He has always had a talent for appearing well adjusted.”

Trowa nodded.  “Is that what you’re trying to do?  Appear well adjusted.”

“Been spending too much time with that therapist, Barton?”

“Not an answer.”

Heero let out his breath through his nose.  “I’m just trying to adjust.  You and I are both beyond the point of keeping up appearances.”  There was a short silence; Trowa understood.

“So you’ll be there too then?”

Heero nodded and turned back to the report he was composing.  Trowa left the office, closing the door behind him. 

The report was finished and sent off before he even though to glance at the clock.  It was well past midnight, and he was due to meet the rest of the security team at the conference center in five hours to secure the location before Relena and the rest of the conference attendees appeared for the day.  At least it was the last day.  Quatre had arrived yesterday, and with his security in the mix, Heero had less responsibilities today anyway.

Still, he should head home and get some sleep.  The short walk from HQ to his apartment was chilly, but not oppressively so, as the colonial climate controls mimicked the Mediterranean zones from the earth below them.  His thoughts turned slowly from work toward the coming Saturday.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about the social engagement.  If other people’s emotions were difficult to gauge, he found his own almost indecipherable.  During the war, he had said his strategy was to follow his emotions, but in recent years, he’d come to realize that statement was a bit of a misnomer.  Certainly he’d been following his instincts and maybe his own internal sense of justice.  But following his emotions?  No.  He didn’t really think he’d been doing that.  If he had, this whole reintegration issue would have been moot, and he would be cleared by the shrink, like Quatre and Wufei.  He’d be out in the field for longer than a few weeks, like Duo. 

Duo?  He’d always assumed Duo had cleared the program as well.  That had to be the explanation for Une’s use of him in long term field assignments.  He and Trowa had even discussed it briefly two years ago, when Duo had received this last undercover job.  Relena seemed to think that wasn’t the case though.  Heero sighed.  Things certainly hadn’t turned out the way he suspected they would when we has sixteen.  Then again, he had suspected he would be dead.  That was an issue the therapist had encouraged him to explore.  What would his life mean, now that he hadn’t had to sacrifice it for peace?  As far as he could tell, his life meant a whole lot of paper work punctuated with the occasional thrill of being sent in on some sort of mission.  Usually an extraction, either of hostages or information.  Never long term things.  Not that his behavior after the war really warranted much trust with long term assignments.  He turned his mind from that depressing path.  Besides, if he were being honest with himself, he would admit that long term missions were few and far between.  The last five years had, indeed, been very peaceful.  He only hoped that if his skills were ever truly needed, Une would utilize him.  All the more reason to focus on reintegration he supposed.  He wanted to be ready.

He disarmed the security system, scanning his palm to gain access to his apartment.  He pulled loose his tie, removed his firearm and shoulder holster, and peeled off his suit, leaving it hanging on the back of the desk chair in his room.  Apparently he would have to add this to the list of things that made him introspective.  Guns, space flight, lack of sleep, Relena’s gentle interrogation, and the mention of Duo Maxwell.


	2. Reintroduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone drinks, Zech is smarmy, and Duo makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't own Gundam Wing. No money being made here, and all ideas are my own.

**Chapter 2:  Reintroduction**

“Heero, you seem agitated.”  Heero thought about it for a moment and, yes, that seemed like an apt description for what he was feeling.

“I suppose I am.”

The therapist, Dr. Simler, leaned back in his chair and nodded.  “Tell me about it.”

Heero shifted minutely in his chair, as close to fidgeting as he generally came.  “Relena has arranged a gathering for this evening.  I’m attending, and on a certain level, I know I want to go.  But there will be people there who I haven’t seen in some time…” He trailed off, but Dr. Simler remained quiet, so he felt obliged to continue.  “Quatre will be there, I haven’t seen him in about four months.  I’m sure he will want to catch up and know about my…progress.” 

“You’ve come a long way over the past four years, Heero.  Your friends see that.”

“I suppose being around them makes me feel,” he searched for the words for a few seconds, “It makes me feel guilty.  I see now that I must have scared them when I…went away.”

“When you disappeared, Heero.  That guilt is natural.  People who cared about you thought you were dead.”             

“Duo will be there as well.”

The doctor set up straighter.  “Your former partner?”

“You know who Duo is.  I haven’t seen him since I…returned.”  Saying he’d been found sounded wrong.  No, that was immature.  “I mean to say, I haven’t seen him since he found me.”  His training during his childhood, before the war, had been exacting, but it had left him a ticking time bomb.  Two years of working with the Preventers.  Two years of a working partnership with Duo, a friendship even, something he’d never expected to have in his life.  And then, he sighed internally.  It was all so predictable really.  If there was one thing four years of therapy had taught him, it was that.  Damn.  He hated when his subconscious admitted the usefulness of this weekly exercise with the doctor.

“Have you had any contact with him in the past four years?”

“Minimal,” Heero responded, and continued after momentary reflection, “but you’ve had contact with him I hear.”

“Heero, you know I won’t speak about other patients with you.”  Patients.  Heero hated the title.

“I’m aware.  I only thought you might have mentioned it.  You know I’ve been concerned with how we left things.”

“Have I not encouraged you to try and address the issue?”

“Certainly, but-“

“Do you want my advice, Heero?” the doctor cut him off.

“No, I…yes.”  This was exhausting.  At least if the doctor told him what he thought he ought to do, he could claim to have done so next week.  Scratch that.  The newfound knowledge that Duo was also still in the Reintegration Program complicated that plan, just as it complicated his interactions with Trowa and the other two who, by their own admission, still occasional spoke to the doctor.  Being strategic was more difficult when you weren’t aware of what others might say.  Oh well, he’d asked for it now.

“I think you should go to the party and try to enjoy yourself.”

Really?  This was the expert opinion a PhD and a Preventers salary produced from this guy?  It was much easier to be philosophical about this whole process with Relena.  During, it always left him feeling mildly ridiculous.

“I’ll try.”

“Good.  Now, our hour is up.  I’ll see you next week, Heero.”

\--

Relena had once tried to explain to Heero that showing up to a party exactly on time was rude.  This was during the brief span of time after the end of the last war when he had entertained the notion that dating Relena wasn’t a horrible idea.  He still held to that.  It’s hadn’t been a horrible idea.  After his disappearance and subsequent reappearance, they had struck up what was, to him, a very rewarding friendship.  It was something he needed in his life, and he doubted it would have been so freely given had they not already attempted a romantic relationship that failed so absolutely.  He felt grateful to her, as we was relatively certain she had run some sort of interference for him with Une.  Not that he imagined Une would ever fire him; he was certain she wanted all the former teenage terrorists where she could keep an eye on them.  But still, the softened blow had been appreciated, and Relena never mentioned it.

And she never had convinced him that showing up late to anything was polite.  It did explain a lifetime of being the first to show up to any non-military function.

Thus, when she was the one who answered the door at the Winner estate, already laughing at his punctuality, he wasn’t surprised.  He wasn’t surprised either that Trowa was already there, giving him a nod from the couch, as Quatre sprung up from his seat beside him.  Heero held out his hand for Quatre, which the other man took, but, instead of shaking it, he used it to draw Heero into a brief, if stifling hug.  Wufei and Sally arrived some twenty minutes later, attempting to pretend they hadn’t arrived together.  By this time, he’d already drank at least half of the three fingers of bourbon Trowa had poured for him, and he told himself to slow down.  He was nervous, a feeling he hated, but when he drank he usually became dark and withdrawn.  He knew this because Relena had told him so outright.

Noin showed up with Zech by her side around the time Heero had finished his first drink.  Well damn, there went the doctor’s ‘try to enjoy yourself advice.’  Milliardo Peacecraft was, potentially, one of Herro’s least favorite people in the entirety of the Earth Sphere.  He disliked the notion that two people, himself and Zech, could agree on so much yet take such strikingly different approaches.  He saw Relena giving him what were, he could only assume, significant looks from across the room.  Apology?  No, that wasn’t right.  She was trying to placate him?  Seemed more plausible.  His attention was drawn away from scrutinizing Relena’s facial expressions as Quatre moved to occupy the seat next to him at the small bar in the den.  Things, it seemed, were just not going to get better.

“It’s so good to see you come out Heero.”

He turned his gaze to meet Quatre’s earnest one.  “It’s good to see you, Quatre.”  He meant that.  Quatre had been a good friend to him, and he should probably try harder to return the favor.  Well, that was what he was doing now, right?

“How have you been?”  The tone of the question implied that a simple ‘good’ would not satisfy.

“I’ve been well.  Work has been calm.  You saw me for the New Year, Quatre.  Not a lot has happened since then.  Things are calm,” he summed up, reiterating the point.  This seemed to satisfy his friend.  And they both looked up to see Wufei headed their way.  Wufei, who didn’t ask so much of Heero.

“Yuy.  Winner.”  They each got a nod from the Chinese man.  “Barton told me there was bourbon over here?”

“Ah, yes!” Quatre scrambled around the back of the bar to play barkeep for a moment, finding Wufei a glass and refilling Heero’s. 

Wufei took a sip of his drink before regarding Heero for a moment, “How are things in Technical?”

“Boring as hell,” he attempted to be candid.  “And in Operations?”

“The same.  A few local things for this conference, but mostly quiet.”

Heero nodded his agreement, and he was just beginning to feel as though, maybe, he would enjoy the evening, when Zech appeared, leaning on the bar next to Heero’s chair.  Heero felt some of the hairs on his neck stand up.  “Heero Yuy,” and the way his name sounded in Zech’s voice wasn’t pleasant, “I see you’ve crawled out from under your rock.  It’s nice to see you’re still among the land of the living.”

Heero could almost hear his own teeth grinding, so he took a pull of the bourbon in his white knuckled grip.  “It turns out a man can’t just disappear forever.  Sorry to disappoint.  And you’re in from Mars?”

“Yes, things are under control.  I’m only in for a short time unfortunately.  So nice of my sister to bring us all together again, and thanks for your hospitality.”  This Zech said with a tip of his glass toward Quatre, who gave a good natured smile.

“My pleasure.”

Zech pushed himself back from his position leaning on the bar with a smoothness that reflected a childhood of fine breeding.  “Excuse me now, I must attend to my fiancé.”  The three men watched Zech’s progress across the room to Noin’s side.

Wufei scowled, “I’m not sure what that women sees in him.”

“Oh, he’s not all that bad.” Quatre, naturally. 

Heero shared a look with Wufei.  The latter sighed, “Winner, your capacity to see the best in everyone seems limitless.”

“Lucky enough for you.”  Quatre smiled at his own retort, and Wufei rolled his eyes skyward. 

Heero smirked at their interaction, and looked down at his drink, now almost gone.  He did a quick mental calculation, his body weight, the time.  Drinking anymore would probably be a poor choice.  A knock at the door brought him back to the moment with a start.  He saw Relena excusing herself from her brother and future sister-in-law.  This wasn’t her home, but she was obviously enjoying playing hostess for the evening.  Heero took a steadying breath.  He could think of only one other person who would be arriving.  His mind, formally so compliant to his will, rebelled against him and sent his thoughts back to the last time he’d seen Duo.

_“I’ve come to see that you’re alive.”_

_“It would appear so.  Where am I?”_

_“The hospital.  You aren’t fucking fifteen anymore, you know.  You’re goddam lucky.”_

_“Agree to disagree.”_

_“Jesus Christ.  Don’t worry, Yuy, this is the last fucking time I bail your sorry ass out.”_

_“I don’t recall asking for your help.”_

_“Right ya’ are.  Consider this my official resignation as your damn babysitter.  I’ll tell the Princess I’m tapping her in.  Do us all a favor and try to extract your head from your ass, but I’m not going down with the ship.”_

With a forceful mental shove, Heero pushed the memory back.  But just as if his imagination had conjured him, Relena reentered the room walking beside a beaming Duo Maxwell.  The bar where Heero stood was tucked into the side of the room, and Relena was leading Duo out into the den proper, giving Heero a moment to regard the newest arrival unnoticed.  Duo hadn’t changed much in the past four years, or so Heero though.  He was taller now by a few inches and broader across the chest, but he still wore his typical Maxwell combination of street clothes.  Black jeans, heavy black biker boots, some sort of t-shirt with a faded band logo under a dark button up shirt that was, typically, neither buttoned nor tucked in.  Taller, broader, but still smiling.  Still Duo.

As if to reinforce the fact, Duo quickly scanned the room.  Heero knew they all did this when they entered a new space.  Exit strategy assessed, potential threats calculated.  He felt Duo’s gaze slide toward the group at the bar, and he turned his back, leaning over the small bar to retrieve the bottle of bourbon and refill his and Wufei’s cup.  Wufei raised a single eyebrow at the action, but didn’t seem to feel the need to actually comment. 

It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like much more to Heero.  As, suddenly, Trowa was making his way behind the bar, pulling up a stool next to Quatre.  Then Duo was there, hopping up to perch on the surface of the bar, with Wufei sitting between him and Heero.

“Well would you fuckin’ look at this?  What do you boys say, are we getting the band back together?”         

  --

All in all, Heero assumed this was better than most of the milder scenarios he had imagined.  Things had been tense, and Duo had pretty well ignored him for the greater part of the evening.  The ignoring had gone both ways, he supposed.  But then, sometime after his third drink, Duo had surprised him by plopping down on the couch at his side.  Heero had only glanced at him out of the side of his eye, afraid to make too direct of eye contact, but Duo had obviously made short work of becoming drunker than Heero.

“Fuck, Yuy, don’t look so glad to see me.”

“The same to you.”

And Duo had laughed, “I see you’ve been working on your sarcasm these last few years.”  Heero had shrugged one shoulder, but turned to face Duo more directly.  “Look, I’m back, you’re back.  Water under the bridge?”  Heero had nodded in the affirmative and that, at least for the moment, seemed to be that.  So, his nerves had settled slightly, but he knew from the two years during their Preventers partnership that drunk Duo was one of two things:  jovial or spoiling for a fight.  And those winds could change very quickly.

Even so, the evening had progressed from there.  Heero felt he was drunker than he ought to be, but he wasn’t the drunkest girl at the party, as Duo used to be fond of saying.  That dubious honor went to Quatre, as per usual. 

It was funny, he had spent the last four years actively trying not to think of the long haired piolet, but for the past three hours he had found himself cataloguing all the little things he had learned about him, both during the war and during their time working closely together.  Though seeing him here, in this casual social situation, brought into sharp relief all the things he didn’t seem to know about the man.  He knew Duo’s favorite type of explosive and his shooting accuracy, but he didn’t know his favorite drink or any number of his non-verbal mannerisms.  He had considered Duo one of his closest friends when he was seventeen, but his understanding of people had been even more piss poor then.  Maybe what they had wasn’t even what Duo would, himself, consider a friendship.  Well, there was nothing for it now.

“Heero, I’m leaving.”  He looked up to see Relena standing before him.  “Walk me to the door, will you?”

He stood and made his way with her through the den.  Trowa caught his arm as he passed by and stated in a low tone, “If I can’t leave, you can’t leave.”

“Understood.”

He retrieved Relena’s coat for her, and helped her into it.  “Should the hostess be leaving so soon?”

Relena turned and flashed him a smile, “Oh, Sally and Noin are coming with me.”  As if on cue, the other two women appeared, each shrugging on their light coats.

“It was so nice seeing you, Heero,” Sally said, giving him one of her small smiles.  Noin gave him a nod that didn’t seem outright hostile.  The both moved toward the door.  “We’ll go on and hail a cab.  Catch up with us outside, Relena.”

Alone in the hall again, Heero fixed Relena with a stare, “Your bother is staying?”

She simply furrowed her eyebrows at him and made a small show of fixing his shirt collar.  “Yes, and play nice.  He tries you know… They’re setting up the card table.  Just beat him soundly and he’ll make his escape.”  She smiled conspiratorially and leaned forward to whisper into his ear, “He taps his temple when he’s bluffing.”

She pulled back and smiled brightly over Heero’s shoulder.  He turned to see a rather uncomfortable looking Duo.  “Sorry to interrupt,” he muttered, “Just looking for my coat.  Gonna’ burn one before this game gets rolling.”  Relena hugged them both and made her exit. 

Duo ducked into the closet and emerged with both of their coats.  “I assume you want one?”  Heero shrugged, but took his coat.  He hadn’t smoked a cigarette since he and Duo were partners.  They were silent as they moved out to the front stoop.  Duo produced a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, taking one out before offering one to Heero.

“Still smoking these,” Heero observed, taking the yellow pack with a picture of a Native American on the front.  It was a rarer old American brand, and Heero remembered Duo complaining when they were on assignment and he couldn’t find them.

“Yeah, and Hildie still hates it, but what are you gonna’ do.”  He scuffed his boot against the pavement.  “So, you and the Princess, still trying to work things out?”

“No, just friends.”

“Never could seal the deal, huh?”

“I’ll add that to the long list of things that are none of your damn business, Maxwell.”  Duo offered him a small smile at that.  Heero had missed their banter.  Wufei took it too seriously and it was difficult to achieve with Trowa, who was even more tight-lipped than himself.

“You’ve changed.  You’re happier?”

Heero huffed, “My head isn’t quite as far up my ass, if that’s what you mean.”  Duo winced.  Maybe that had been the wrong thing to say?  He wasn’t sure.  “I don’t know if I’m happier.  I don’t think I know what people mean by that.”

“Yeah.  Isn’t that what reintegration is all about though?  We find Nirvana or drink some of Quatre’s fucking optimism kool-aid or some shit.  Damned if I know.  I guess that’s why I’m back here.” 

They smoked in silence for a moment.  A thought pressed its way forward into Heero’s mind.  Maybe some conversation from therapy, or a time when Quatre was talking at him?  “Duo, were we friends…before?”

“Shit man, seriously?  You askin’ me?”  Heero only looked at him expectantly, watching numerous expressions flash across the other man’s face in rapid succession.  If he and Duo were on speaking terms again, he guessed his efforts to understand people’s non-verbal clues were going to have increase quickly.  How could anyone shift through so many feelings so quickly?  Just as abruptly, his face settled.  Heero knew this Duo emotion, anger.  “Yeah, we were friends.  And, just so we’re clear, we ain’t now.  We can move forward, clean slate if you want.  But being your best friend is too much goddamn responsibility.”

“We were best friends?”

He felt Duo’s anger soften.  “That’s what you took from all that?”  Heero raised his eyebrows a little, as if to say yes.  He wasn’t hurt, or even very much surprised, by Duo’s declaration.  It was probably deserved.  The more shocking bit was the fact that his feelings of friendship hadn’t been one-sided, but had been returned and more intensely than anticipated.  “I wasn’t your best friend?  You took a fuckin’ bullet for me.”

“Yes, but that was—“

“A more efficient form of self-detonation?  I figured.”  Duo stubbed out his cigarette in one of Quatre’s potted plants and Heero followed suit.  “Let’s leave that sort of talk to the shrink, huh?  Come on, let’s go watch Tro’ destroy Zech in poker.” 


	3. Most Dangerous Man in the Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Duo broods and also hates teaching, even though he's probably good at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing, and I’m not making any money here. All ideas are my own.  
> Warnings: m/m pairings, language, descriptions of violence, discussions of depression  
> AN: This chapter is another slowish, character development one, but with DUO!

For some reason, Duo had assumed that his first day back at Preventer’s headquarters would be really awkward.  He’d even pre-gamed some of his best witty one-liners while brushing his teeth that morning.

_“Did my request for mandatory afternoon nap time get approved in my absence?”_

_“Wow, there are about 50% less coke heads here than at my last job.”_

_“My hair never gives me away when I’m undercover; people are usually too preoccupied looking at my ass.”_

He’d save that last one for Quatre, because he loved how talking about anything mildly sexual got the guy all flustered.  The cocaine thing was probably a little too true to be funny.  The field agents didn’t usually get a lot of sleep or down time, so, things happened.  But, contrary to what he assumed popular opinion to be, he was just a touch obsessive about getting his job done well, and taking drugs when he was supposed to be working made him feel like an asshole.  And really, he should probably talk to Une about that aspect of the Field Ops subculture.  He was a ranking officer or some shit.  Right.  He’d add that to his list of things to do, right under challenge Trowa to a knife fight.  Maybe above that one.  Fuck, being an adult was the literal worst.  Naps would clearly make it better.  

In spite of his initial reservations, by lunch time he was still grinning, and it wasn’t even the grin he used to put others at ease.  He’d managed to make it through the prolonged debriefing from his last mission with the bare minimum amount of back talk, or useful talk at all really.  Where did Une even find these ex-Oz douches?  He had ended the debrief by producing his rather sizeable write-up, which mentioned both the drug thing and the nap thing, neither of which he expected to be well received.  He’d had time to seek out Quatre, who was utilizing one of the back offices reserved for consulting agents, and baited him into banter.  The other man’s obvious embarrassment at the mention of Duo’s ass had only been amplified when he managed to sneak in a comment about Trowa’s assets.  He didn’t last long after that as Quatre, “Really did have some important business to attend to, and, look at that, it’s already lunch time.  Shouldn’t you be going?”  The obvious question of Quatre’s own lunch plans was put off with a dismissive wave of his hand as he was “- meeting someone.” 

Debriefing over, thank God.  Quatre reconnaissance complete.  He and Trowa were at least screwing around, which was a-fucking-dorable.  He felt his chances of getting details about the affair from Wufei were pretty good, so he decided to seek him out in the mess hall.  During his first two years as a Preventer, when he’d been stationed at HQ semi-regularly, he’d gotten to know Wufei a lot better, and found him to be the ideal partner for workplace gossip.  The guy was pretty liberal in sharing his opinions about other people and their behavior.  He reminded Duo a bit of the older women from L2, but sub all that bless-their-heart nonsense with some bullshit about honor.  It wasn’t even really that Wufei was trash talking people, he just didn’t seem to see the benefit of playing his cards close to his chest.  Duo liked that.  He liked to know where he stood with people.  

All in all, he was in a pretty good mood when he entered the mess hall and grabbed a ham sandwich and some sort of sports drink thing that was purple and probably tasted it.  He let his eyes quickly scan the room.  Three exits and about 75 armed men and women.  It set his paranoia on edge.  At least when he was infiltrating a criminal gang, he was certain he couldn’t trust anyone.  He spied Wufei sitting at one of the tables with very good access to the rear exit.  Old habits and all. 

Just as Duo was about to make his move to join Chang at his table, Heero Yuy seemed to materialize out of nowhere and took a seat across from Wufie.  Duo hesitated.  He thought he’d played it pretty cool at the Princess’ party, and he’d been grateful for it really.  It had given him the chance to get up the drunken nerve to clear the air with Yuy.  It was a good thing, because while he was fucking chained to his desk here, he was sure they’d have to interact at some point.  Hanging out with him at the party hadn’t been that bad.  It wasn’t like the guy actually talked that much, so he hadn’t been forced to make a lot of conversation with him.  Plus, he’d forgotten how horrible Heero was at poker, which Duo had always found amusing.  He realized, suddenly, that he was smiling at the memory of it.  And he knew, really he did, that it had been four years and Sister Helen would have told him to forgive and forget.  And that would probably be the right thing to do.

 _Duo, were we friends…before?_   Jesus, he couldn’t think of a more fucked up question to ask a person.

Duo decided he’d rather sit outside and smoke a cigarette while drinking this purple shit.  

________________

If his first day back at work had been decent on balance, it only stood to reason that his second day would be total shit.  Could it possibly only be 9:00 am?  Well fuck it.  He crushed the butt of his cigarette under the toe of his boot and decided that chain smoking couldn’t possibly make the day worse, so he lit up another one. 

“Still keeping up with that disgusting habit, Maxwell?”

Duo couldn’t help but smile.  “Still worrying about me like a little old lady, Chang?”

“Well someone has to worry about your health, as you obviously don’t give it a second thought.”

“Thanks for caring pal.”  Maybe it came out more sincere than he had meant for it to, because Wufei merely huffed in response.  Rather than let the awkward moment hang, Duo plunged forward.  “Okay, well how is this for proper use of personnel.  Guess what they have one of Prev’s most successful field agents doing during his forced tour of duty at HQ?”  At this, he turned to look at Wufei expectantly. 

“I’m assuming we are discussing you here?”

“Who the fuck else.  And don’t play dumb.  I know you knew about this.”  Heero might have been called the Perfect Soldier during the war, but if perfection was defined by a love for power structures and an ability to flourish in such systems, Wufei was the one who should be receiving all the accolades.  He had reintegrated and proceeded to promote through the ranks.  Duo wouldn’t even be surprised if the assignment had been his damn idea.

“It’s an excellent use of your skills, Duo.”

The use of his first name was an obvious attempt to placate him, and one he didn’t appreciate.  “Fucking babysitting, Chang.  I’m not a damned teacher.”

Wufei gave a long suffering sigh.  “It’s hardly babysitting, as the new recruits are essentially our same age, some older some younger.  Second, you should be thrilled with the chance to train agents who could potentially partner with you in the field in the future.”  He stopped, and sighed again, but less unkindly.  “As your friend, I suggest you take this assignment for what it is, a chance to focus on the future of this organization and a chance to focus on yourself.  You’ll never see a field assignment again unless you do.”

Duo’s brows knit together roughly at that.  “Is that a threat?”

“No.  That’s a fact.  You’re being watched closely, Maxwell.”  Wufei hesitated, which was unusual, and it made Duo feel off balance.  “We hadn’t heard from you for a month before you popped back up.  You can’t just disappear while on assignment.  You know what happens…”

“I was fucking caught on the inside.  And I damn well know what happens.”  Duo ground out his second cigarette.  “Would you rather I kept our weekly phone dates or successfully completed the mission?”

“Damn it, Maxwell, don’t be such a child.  They’ve had us all on a short leash for the past four years.  You can’t just do whatever you damn well please—“ 

Wufei seemed to bite back his words as Duo, very suddenly, invaded his personal space.  He brought their faces so close together, he was sure the other man could smell the offending cigarettes on his breath.  “Don’t fucking talk down to me, don’t presume to tell me what I know, and don’t you dare compare me to…just fucking don’t.  Okay?”  He backed off slightly and offered a small smile as a peace offering.  “I screwed up, so I’ll toe the line and babysit your cadets.  But, you want me producing officers half as badass as myself, you’ll have to keep Une off my back.  Let me do this my way.”   

Duo saw Wufei’s shoulders visibly relax.  “I’ll do what I can.”

Nodding his thanks, Duo tapped another smoke out of the pack.  “Now, down to the actual important business.  Do you know if Quatre and Barton are fucking?” 

Wufei was slow to respond and, holy shit, was that a blush?  Duo’s day was starting to turn around.  For a moment, it looked like the Chinese man might not respond at all, then, “Yuy might know more than me.  All I know is that Winner has been doing quite a bit more consulting in our office in the past year.  Why haven’t you just asked him outright?”

“I’m pretty sure Q would literally dissolve into a puddle if I tried to talk to him about Barton’s dick.”  That one definitely earned a blush.

Day ruined by 8:30 and recouped by 10.  Life around HQ was, at the very least, going to be interesting, not that he planned to hang around for any longer than necessary.    

_________

He had managed to avoid it ever since reestablishing his residence at his old apartment in the Preventer owned building near HQ two weeks prior.  And, when it happened, it couldn’t have been more mundane.  He literally met Heero at the elevator.  Duo considered a tactical retreat, but, fuck it, he _lived_ here again.  Better to just bite the bullet, he decided, as he came to stand beside Heero, who had already pressed the elevator call button.

“How’s it, Yuy?”

Heero turned to him, looking a little bewildered.  Not that anyone else was likely to read that in his face, but Duo had been training in the art of Heero Yuy Translation from the time he was 15.  Plus, on a scale from zero to highly emotive, Duo felt Heero had inched just past extremely stoic during their separation. 

Heero shrugged with one shoulder, the other one twitching, but never quite managing to join in with the non-committal gesture.  Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own.

“You still live here?”

“Yup, shit’s just as I left it two years ago.  I think Quatre came in and dusted before I moved back in.”  Was the elevator taking an abnormally long time to arrive, or were they in some sort of time warp?  “You still in the same place?”  Small talk with Heero was literally painful.

“No, I’m on ten now, just below you.”

The elevator pinged and the chrome doors slid open.  Duo quickly punched numbers 10 and 11, before leaning heavily against the back wall and tilting his chin up to stare at the reflective ceiling.  The slightly chrome tinged reflection of Heero tugged at his own coat sleeve nervously.  Was the Perfect Soldier actually fidgeting?  It walked like Heero, and it talked like Heero, but it was like someone had taken sand paper to the asshole’s rough edges.

The elevator pinged suddenly, or maybe it had taken a long time. 

Duo brought his gaze down to meet Heero’s. 

“Good night, Duo.”

“Sure.”

Then it was over.

And yet, as if their first meeting had opened the floodgates, after that first night Duo’s ability to avoid Heero seemed to disintegrate.  For the next six weeks, Heero Yuy was everywhere.  He saw him in the lunch room, when he was having a smoke, at night on the elevator, walking between buildings when he had the cadets outside for physical training.  He couldn’t seem to escape the asshole.  And every fucking time, the prick just acted like things were fine.  He acted like all the water was real and truly under the bridge, or whatever crap they had said the night of Relena’s party.  He acted like he was earnestly trying to work his shit out and reintegrate.

So really, fuck him.

\----

“Hey, Yuy!  Come here a minute.”  It was first thing in the morning, and Duo had the cadets in the gym at Preventers Headquarters.  Most agents had cleared out, heading to the showers and to their day of work.  Heero, seemingly, had been headed that way himself, but now he was slipping off his shoes and joining Duo on the large sparring mat with a ring of cadets looking on with some confusion.

“Do you boys and girls know who this is?”  After receiving blank stares all around, Duo heaved an overly dramatized sigh.  Heero only looked at him from below raised eyebrows as if to say _“They were playing high school sports when we were fighting a war.”_

“He’s from Technical,” one recruit supplied to fill the awkward classroom silence.  At this, Duo smiled.

“Excellent.  Yes.  And, this morning, this guy from Technical will be helping us out with a bit of close range fighting.”

“Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to bring in someone from Operations?” 

Duo turned to the speaker, a tall man in his late 20s.  His name was Adams, and he’d been a literal pain in Duo’s ass from day one.  Sure, Heero wasn’t a big guy, a few inches shorter than Duo himself, but he was muscular, obviously strong.  And, really, if these cadets couldn’t recognize a dangerous man when the saw one, Duo was doing them a favor with this lesson. 

“Adams raises an interesting point.  Maybe I am underestimating you all.  How ‘bout this for a deal then.  If just one of you cadets can bring this guy from Technical down to the mat for a three count, I let you have the rest of the morning free.” 

The assembled trainees shifted and murmured.  To his right, Duo heard Heero huff slightly and saw him cross his arms in his peripheral vision.  Pouting Heero?  Cute.

Mother fucker.

“I’ll do it.” It was Adams, naturally. 

“All right, saddle up pal.  Shoes off,” then he addressed the group as a whole, “As we start learning close range combat, I’ll teach you skills and best practices, but there is no form, there are no rules.  The only objective is to be the winner.  Are we clear?”  Heads nodded around the mat as Adams slipped off his shoes and entered the circle.  Duo paused as he passed by Heero, “Remember, this is a learning experience, so don’t end it too quickly.”

“This is far more interesting than hacking some politician’s emails.  Trust me, I’m in no rush.”

It became clear quickly that Heero really was in no rush at all.  Adams came on aggressively, but Heero simply sidestepped and dodged.  Duo shouted tips and advice from the sidelines, but Heero was obviously too quick for the larger Adams to catch.

“He won’t learn anything if you keep running away from him.  I’ll make him faster later; fucking punch him already.”  That was one of many teaching tactics of which Duo was relatively certain Une would not approve.  But, Heero did stop dodging and began blocking blows.  First a right hook, then an uppercut.  Suddenly, Heero dropped, sweeping his leg to knock both of the larger man’s feet out from under him.  Adams hit the mat hard, and in the span of a few seconds, Heero had him on his stomach, a knee in his back, with both arms pulled high up around behind his body.

Duo sighed and shook his head.  “Zero to g-force, Yuy.  You didn’t even hit him.”

Heero shrugged, the action pulling Adams arms back into a painful looking position.  “I didn’t need to.  I still could.”  In the span of a breath, Heero had both of Adams’ wrists in on hand, and had his other fist cocked back.

“Exactly.  And, if Adams here had been on a mission, he’d be fucked now.  Yuy would be bringing him back to the big boss to get his fingers broken.  Let him up.”  Adams refused Herro’s offered hand and got himself to his feet shakily.  “What did you do wrong, Adams?”

The other man rolled his shoulders experimentally.  “I should have been watching out for that leg swipe.  I got too focused on attack.”

Duo shook his head and felt the beginnings of a headache.  “You went wrong way before that.  Anyone else have some insights?”  The room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

“How would you fight him, Agent Maxwell?”

Duo bit out a laugh.  “From a distance, with a gun.”  Heero crossed his arms again and gave a derisive snort and a few of the cadets laughed.  “I’m serious.  That was Adams’ first mistake.  A mission, and close range combat specifically, are all about sizing up your enemy correctly.  If you see this guy here, and you don’t want to hide behind something and shoot at him, you’re probably doing it wrong.”  Duo assessed the group, some of who were shifting nervously, obviously afraid that they would be asked to try their luck with Heero next. 

“Alright, pair off.  I’ll lead you kids through the basics.”

“What if you had to fight him?  How would you beat him?”  Adams again, damn it.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t rely on brute strength.”

“Show us?”

Asshole mother fucker.  Duo cast his eyes over and met Heero’s gaze.  Heero just shrugged a shoulder.  Well, Duo had been in the field for the past couple years while Heero had been riding a desk, so maybe he stood a chance.

“Alright.  Yuy, if you touch the hair, I won’t be pulling my punches.”  The cadets circled up around them, and Duo sized Heero up, and he knew the shorter man was doing the same to him.  They used to spar together on a fairly regular basis, but it had literally been years since they had fought.  Four years.  And Heero had changed, Duo could tell.  It was equal parts infuriating and exciting, and it confused him because he didn’t understand any of his feelings about it.  He felt like he was standing still, and instead of pulling Heero along, as he had before, he was suddenly looking at the other man’s back as he strode away.

Heero struck first.  Heero never attacked first, generally relying on his superior strength to protect him until he got his opponent’s number.  But where Heero was stronger, Duo had always been quicker.  He sidestepped the punch and pushed Heero along past him, upsetting his balance as he followed through on his strike.  Within the span of a breath they were facing one another again.  Heero darted in close again, blocking the punch that Duo threw to make him back off.

“Impatient, Yuy?”

Heero made a huffing sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t bother to respond.  They traded blows and blocks, each getting in a few solid body shots.  Duo saw an opening and jabbed with his right arm, but Heero dodged at the last moment, grabbing Duo’s wrist and pulling it up and behind while wrapping the other arm around his chest at shoulder height, effectively pinning Duo’s back to the front of his body.  Without hesitation, Duo lifted both his feet off the ground and pitched all his weight forward, rolling them both over in some violent imitation of a summersault.  Duo was already three steps ahead in his mind.  Once they came out of the roll, he would pin Heero, but the other man would easily break that hold, so then he would retreat and regroup.

Except, Heero didn’t break the hold as Duo pinned him to the mat.  Heero fought hard, and Duo had to use all his strength to hold him down, but it wasn’t right.  Maybe to someone who hadn’t fought a war with Heero, or worked with him for two years, or thought of him every single day for a year after that, or spent the subsequent three years forcefully _not_ thinking of him, maybe for that person this would feel like victory.  But Duo wasn’t that person. 

A cadet counted aloud, declaring Duo the winner.

He knew he had to stay composed, but his anger was almost blinding.  Did this fucker really think he could just let him win?  He let Heero up, and they were both panting, but it wasn’t right.  His eyes came up to meet Heero’s, but the returning gaze was impassive.  That mother fucker—but first things first.

Duo turned back to the cadets.  “You’re free till after lunch.  Think about what you learned this morning.  We will reconvene in the lecture hall at thirteen hundred, and I want each of you to come prepared to tell me who the three most dangerous people in the mess hall were, not counting this asshole and myself.”  At that, he jabbed a thumb toward Heero.  “Dismissed.”

The cadets scattered, gathering their belongings and heading toward the showers.  Heero moved to head there himself, but Duo brought him up short with a firm grip to his bicep and a mouth near his ear.  “Walk with me, Yuy.”

Duo liked to give himself credit when it was due, and by his own estimation, he deserved a literal shit ton of credit for not breaking Yuy’s face as soon as they were comfortably tucked in a corner outside near the edge of the gymnasium wall.  He would have to make sure and report to the shrink his recent advances in not immediately resorting to violence to “deal with his emotions.” Instead he lit up a smoke but failed to offer one to Heero.

“Care to share with me what that was all about in there?”  Duo made a jerking hand gesture back toward the gym door, forgetting momentarily that Heero had become slightly less of an interpersonal dunce in the past few years and likely had some inclination for why Duo was upset.

“A demonstration for your students.  Did you actually want me to break that kid’s nose?  I can next time.”

Or maybe not.  Still, he felt strangely compelled to give Heero the benefit of the doubt.  “Are you being intentionally dense?”  Heero squinted at him and tilted his head to the side minutely in what Duo surmised to be confusion.  The expression had such a puppy-ish quality that Duo’s anger faltered momentarily.  But he was nothing if not persistent.  “I just beat you in a hand to hand fight.”

“It was bound to happen eventually.”

“No, you prick, it wasn’t.  What good is genetically modified strength if you can’t beat a dude who was extremely malnourished for most of his formative years in hand to hand combat _every_ fucking time?  Don’t toy with me like I’m some other asshole who doesn’t know you. I know you better than any other mother fucker in the Earth Sphere.”

Whatever Heero had been about to say apparently died on his tongue, and he made a face like he tasted something bitter in his mouth, and then he seemed to waver between something like vulnerability and something like sadness.  Then, in the span of a blink, the Heero Yuy emotional wall re-erected itself and his face was unreadably blank again.

“I know you too, Maxwell.”  Heero stepped forward and extracted the pack of cigarettes from Duo’s shirt picket, a move which caused Duo’s pulse to spike for reasons he couldn’t rightly fathom at the moment.  Heero extracted a smoke and lit it.  For a moment, Duo thought the other man would reach out and return the pack to his pocket, and before he could even began to understand why that idea made his palms sweat, he saw the cardboard box and lighter held out benignly in Heero’s hand.  Their fingers didn’t even brush when he retrieved them.  The atmosphere had taken such a rapid u-turn that Duo was struggling to hold onto his anger. 

“Duo, if you really want me to dislocate your shoulder in order to win a demo fight for your students, warn me ahead of time.  I just thought that seemed a bit…unnecessary.”

They stood in silence for a moment that seemed to stretch on for far too long. 

“I’m not making a power play on you, Maxwell.  I’m not trying to mess with your head.  I’m t—I’m trying not to do that with my allies anymore.”

Duo found himself momentarily without a center.  Or maybe the feeling was that of his center shifting.  Finally, Duo sighed out a large breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, and, putting his back to the wall, slid down into a sitting position, forearms resting on his bent knees.  After only a moment’s hesitation, Heero sat down beside him tailor fashion.    

Duo smoked a good half of his cigarette before he spoke.  “You’ve changed a lot, Heero.”

“You said that to me at Relena’s party.” A pause. “You’ve changed too, you realize?”

“Yeah, but you’re getting better.”

The silence coming from Duo’s side was heavy, but he didn’t quite dare to look.  When Heero spoke, it was with a previously-uncharacteristic hesitance.  “I started trying to think of it as a coding problem.  That helped.  If I made certain strategic changes, I wouldn’t have to change the whole program structure, but I could change the way it interfaced.  Get better results.  Run smoother maybe.”  More silence.  “Maybe you could conceptualize it as an engineering issue?  I think any rewiring analogies would be too literal, but the general frame of mind is the important part.  You’re a fantastic engineer, Duo.”

And suddenly, without warning, Duo head was back and he was laughing. 

\----

When he and Heero appeared in the mess hall together some 30 minutes later and took their seats at the table in the back with good access to the rear exit, Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre were giving them identical glares.

Wufei leaned in close and spoke in an accusatory whisper, “Why the hell have all your cadets been staring at us for the entire lunch hour?”

Duo laughed and Heero smirked, which surprised Duo by making him laugh harder. 

Heero shrugged both his shoulders, “I think they are doing their homework.”


	4. Of Lesser Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Duo figures some things out and we all learn about that shit that Heero did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing, and I’m not making any money here. All ideas are my own.
> 
> Warnings: m/m pairings, language, descriptions of violence, discussions of depression
> 
> AN: Look look, a semi-timely story update! I'm not 1000% sure I'm happy with how it came out, but it's out of my head and in your hands now. For reference, in my head cannon, L-2 if filled with mostly people from the American southeast.

“I’ve been thinking about trying to meet someone.  You know, date, or whatever.”

The doctor smiled, but didn’t say anything; he simply looked down and scribbled something in his little notebook.  Obviously, he was waiting for Duo to continue.  Ten weeks in, and Duo pretty much got how this worked, or at least he accepted what Quatre had told him upon his return to HQ.  It wasn’t this guy’s job to tell Duo how to feel or even what to do, it was his job to ask really good questions and help Duo come to his own conclusions.

It seemed like a fucking round-about way of doing things to him.  There weren’t any clear benchmarks.  The only time in the past ten weeks Dr. Simler had told Duo he thought he was “making progress” he had almost cried during the session and felt like total shit for three days afterward.  He did wake on the fourth day feeling somehow lighter, like he had unpacked a box left too long in the back of the attic.  Even still, he wasn’t sure if he thought it was worth it.  Thinking about the long game had never really been his style. 

In spite of all his reservations, he had taken Heero’s advice of two weeks ago seriously.  Reintegration as an engineering issue was at least marginally easier to grapple with during evenings sitting alone in an apartment with blank walls.

He looked back up at the therapist, who was still smiling easily and expectantly.  Engineering was about efficiency, so best to be direct perhaps.

“I figure, I don’t like being alone, not really.  I also don’t like being around a whole crowd of people, because it makes me nervous, erh, paranoid I guess,” he corrected himself.  The doctor smiled a bit bigger, encouragingly.  “So, anyhow, maybe I could meet someone.  Then I’d have someone around consistently, someone who gave a shit, you know?”

Jesus, this was unpleasant.  Duo spun a loose thread on his black button up between his thumb and forefinger.  This was like taking medicine.

The doctor tapped his pen on his notebook thoughtfully.  “I think the desire to form close relationships is natural, and meeting new people would likely be healthy for you.  However, you might find interacting with others who share common experiences with you helpful.  Why not reach out to your friends?”

Duo caught himself making a sour face, but not before the doctor saw it and began scribbling another fucking note.  Great.  Still, he had decided on efficiency as his course of action for the hour, so what the hell.  “Well Wufei just wants to fix shit, and sometimes I just want to be around someone and not get a full on lecture about how I should be living my life.  Quatre is busy, and not around all the time, and he’s got his own personal shit to worry about.”  Namely pretending he wasn’t fucking adorably trying to worm his way into Trowa’s life.  Duo was on a roll now, and ticking the reasons off on his fingers.  “Tro’ is great, but he’s got his own shit to deal with, or so I understand.  Hildie is fuckin’ shuttle ride away.”  The doctor was still looking at him, presumably still waiting for him to continue.  “The friends list is short for me.” 

The doctor just tipped his head to the side and gave this small smile that Duo has come to read as “You’re still missing something you fucking idiot,” though he was fairly certain that’s not the way Dr. Simler would phrase it.

Jesus fucking – “Heero isn’t my friend.  Things are fine between us now, swell actually.  I’ve been there before though, you know?  Don’t I have the fucking right to protect myself?”

The doctor nodded and wrote another quick note, which Duo tried very hard not to resent.  “You have every right to protect yourself.  And you have every right to set firm boundaries in relationships.  But--” he paused, and Duo could see him actively considering his words.  Then Simler just shruged, and Duo couldn’t find it in himself to be comforted by that. “—but, nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“Seriously man?”

“Duo, do you want my advice?”

Duo nodded, because he has learned this was code for, “Okay, I’ll give you a clue to you hopeless shit.”

“You are a kind man, and I think companionship will come to you if you’re open to it.  If you honestly want to prepare yourself for a meaningful relationship with someone, why not practice cultivating your current friendships.”

Duo clasped his hands behind his head below his braid and leaned back into the plush cushions of the chair he was occupying.  “Is this your professional way of advising me to not go trolling for ass.”

The doctor chuckled, which Duo took as a personal triumph.  Really, this guy wasn’t half bad. 

“Perceptive as always, Agent Maxwell.”  Then his eyes shifted to the clock on the wall behind Duo’s head.  “And it looks like our time has passed; I’ll see you again next Monday.  Duo rose, and the doctor followed him toward the door.  “One last thing, Duo.  Forgiveness isn’t a quality held by lesser men.”  Then he opened the door for him, following him out with a smile.

Not a half bad guy, but he sure did know how to twist the knife.

\----------

When Duo rolled into HQ that Wednesday, Quatre was in one of the contracting agent offices, which wasn’t a big shock at this point.  Duo did feel a pang of guilt at seeing him there, as apparently Trowa hadn’t bothered to inform his boy-toy that he would be gone for the week, leading Duo’s cadet’s through some survival training shit dirt side.  Sally Po was with him too.  It had taken some cajoling of Une on Duo’s part, but he had convinced her that the cadets really deserved the best if she expected them to be productive and simultaneously not get dead the first time a mission went south.  In the case of field medicine and survival, the best couldn’t be anyone other than a former mercenary and the finest damn army doctor Duo had ever met. 

And, really, these kids needed to learn to respect all the different types of people they would meet in this organization.  Duo’s personal brand of sarcasm and death threats were currently met with something bordering on reverent respect, and Heero, who now met with Duo and the cadets twice a week in the gym for close combat training, had most of the group wrapped around his little finger with his direct mode of communication and sparse, but always appropriate, praise.  Dealing with the Tro-Sally dream team would be excellent experience for the newbees.    

“How’s it, Q?”  Quatre met Duo’s greeting with a smile, but closed his laptop, which was a bit strange.  “I’ll knock Tro around a bit for not telling you, but he’s on planet this week babysitting those dysfunctional assholes I’m meant to be training.”

Quatre smiled his placating, Quatre smile.  “He told me about the trip when we spoke last week.  I’m staying in L-1 through to Sunday, so I’ll be here when he returns.”

Duo plopped his weight down into the spare chair in the sparse office.  “Well, aren’t you two just precious?  Do I hear wedding bells, or this a purely physical arrangement?”

“Don’t be crass, Duo.”

“Don’t be a prude, Q.”  But they were both smiling, and Duo was reminded that Quatre was maybe his closest confidant in the Earth Sphere.  And the dude wouldn’t even give up any juicy details, how boring.  “What’ya working on anyhow?” he inquired, jabbing a thumb toward the closed laptop.  

“Just some intelligence gathering.  It pertains to some of Winner Corp’s assets in the L-4 cluster, so I thought I might as well contract myself out to do the work.  It provides a nice excuse to come here and see my friends.”

The quality of his nonchalance seemed thin, but that’s what you got sometimes when you teased Quatre.  “Your friends and your more-than-just-friends, correct?”

“If you insist,” Quatre sighed.  “I’m getting a drink with Heero after work.  Care to join?”

In the spirit of cultivating his current relationships?

“If you insist.”  That comment put Duo on the receiving end of Quatre’s calculating glare, which was not a place he liked to be.  He held his palms out in a gesture of surrender.  “Give me a break Quatre.  I’ve been working on being resentful for fully 30 times as long as I’ve been working on moving past this shit.”  The glare softened substantially.  “Look, I’ll come, I’ll drink, and I’ll try really hard not to be a dick.”

Duo stood to leave, and Quatre opened back up his laptop.

“Duo?”  He stopped in the doorway and turned to face the other man.  “Has Heero seemed well to you?  Lately, that is.”

Duo tried to give the question actual consideration, but found it left him feeling a bit like the pit had dropped out of his stomach.  “The only time I really interact with him, we’re torturing cadets prior to eight in the morning.  So, from where I sit, he’s been positively gleeful lately.  Or the Yuy version of glee.  You know what I mean.”  Quatre nodded his understanding, and Duo went to make his actual escape.

Then again, “Duo?”

“I really am supposed to be researching new ways to torment young people hell bent on committing their lives to this organization.”

“Do you think you can forgive him?  I’d like for us all to be friends together again.”

Jesus fuck—“Reserve your damn savior complex for Trowa.”  He immediately regretted it.  “I’m sorry.  I just… I’m doing my best.  Maybe tomorrow my best will be better,” He rested his head against the cool wood of the doorframe, “but for now you just have to trust that I’m doing my damndest.” 

Quatre nodded his consent.  “I’ll swing by your office around 18 hundred hours.”

“Fantastic.”  And then he beat it down the hall, because it was before 8 am on a Wednesday, and he has only human.

\----------

“Let’s just recap for a second, Q.  You don’t like American football, understandable.  You don’t care for basketball, obnoxious but forgivable.  But you don’t follow soccer?”

“Football,” Heero corrected over his pint glass.

“Whatever.  It’s not normal.  Not only is it clearly the best sport on or off the planet, but also…” Quatre smiled slowly.  “…wait for it.  I totally have a point.”  Heero actually gave a small snort into his beer.  “Shove it, Yuy!  You are fucking privileged to hear such a high quality sports rant, and it is absolutely not my fault that Quat is an uncultured wretch.”

Quatre laughed that easy, lilting laugh that Duo had always so envied.  “For the benefit of Heero, who perhaps hasn’t heard your full head of steam sports tirade before, I’ll help you out.  I think the final nail in my coffin usually has something to do with ‘the beautiful game.’”

“Damn straight, the beautiful game.  And don’t be all smarmy and act like I’m not fucking educating you.”  He shifted in his chair at their small table in the corner by the rear exit, coming around to face Heero more directly.  “This guy’s favorite sport is cricket, and he’s trying to get sassy with me.”

Heero shrugged a shoulder.  “Cricket is at least more entertaining than golf.”

“Golf?!  Yuy, if golf is the standard by which you are judging all sports, there is clearly no hope for you.”  He pushed back from the table and stood.  “I don’t have time to argue with you Philistines.  I’m getting another beer.” 

Quatre followed suit and stood.  “I really should be going, actually.  My car is likely already waiting outside.”  Heero stood too, hands shoved deep in his pants pockets, obviously unsure if he should stay or go.

Duo sighed, “Come on then, let’s get one more drink.  We have to at least outlast this old lady.”  Quatre smiled at him then, and Duo felt a slight tug in his chest to have pleased the blonde man.  They waved Quatre out the door of the windowless dive, and quickly found themselves leaning against the bar, standing side by side, each with a new beer in hand. 

“The cadets are still gone on Friday, so you won’t need me that morning?” 

Yuy small talk.  If there was a God, Duo figured this was proof of his indifference.  “I’ll likely be ‘round the gym at that time on Friday anyhow, regardless.  Unless you’re busy, you could swing by and we can make plans for next week.”

“Alright.”

This felt normal.  Awkward, sure, and stilted, but normal.  But, all the while, a phrase was beating a steady a tattoo in the back of Duo’s mind.  Forgiveness isn’t a quality held by lesser men.  Maybe he had been a lesser man, or maybe he was one still.  Over the past ten weeks, one thing was becoming clearer to him, as he put the sizeable weight of his intellect behind the process of reengineering his life, and the more he thought about it, the more it became a lighthouse for his journey.  It was something achievable and relatively concrete; it was progress he could catalogue.  He didn’t want to be lesser.  And, hell, maybe he was drunk enough to be brave.

“I’ve been advised to forgive ya’.”  If Heero was shocked by the statement, he didn’t betray it to Duo’s peripheral glace at his features.  His grip on his pint glass only increased minutely. 

“I’ve been advised to offer you a proper apology.  I had only thought that bringing it up might make things worse.”

“I’m bringing it up.”

“You’re drunk.”

Duo laughed in the way he used to throw others off of his discomfort.  “So are you.”  They drank in silence for another few minutes, and Duo could tell Heero was considering some sort of tactical withdrawal.  Under normal circumstances, he might have allowed it.  Maybe it was the more mature decision, given how fucking drunk he actually was, but he was doubtful of his ability to overcome the inertia of the situation again.  “How ‘bout this, Yuy?  We finish this beer, we go have a cig, and we stop spittin’ into the wind about this thing.*”

As it was, they each drank another whole beer under the pretense of watching the conclusion of the basketball game on the monitor behind the bar.  Even then, Duo smoked a whole cigarette in silence leaning against the brick wall of the bar half way down an alley, contemplating Heero’s profile as Heero watched the stars blinking into view through the transparent sky of the colony.  He was now, officially, too drunk for this.  Duo knew the clinical details, and he hoped they wouldn’t have to go over them again.  Just like every time, however, his uncooperative mind readily pulled unwanted memories to the fore.

Nine months into their work with preventers, and much of the truly tough job of cleaning up after the Eve Wars was starting to pay dividends.  Many of the smaller terrorist cells composed mainly of the most fanatical ex-White Fang and leftover Barton rebels had been broken up, with leaders brought before war tribunals.  A few radical groups persisted though, as they always did.  Even as an ex-terrorist himself, Duo found he identified with these factions less and less as time passed.  Relena and her political compatriots were making genuine strides toward better relations between Earth and her colonies.  Conditions were steadily improving throughout the Earth Sphere, even in those areas traditionally disenfranchised, like his home cluster around L-2.  The system wasn’t fixed, but it was functioning.

On the personal front, fitting into a peacetime life had been more difficult for him the second time.  He never would have wished for the Mariemaia Incident, but it had come as a relief of sorts.  Afterward, returning to his business with Hildie hadn’t felt like and option anymore, so he joined up with Wufei, Trowa, and Heero.  From the start, an extension of his wartime partnership with Heero had felt right.  He had liked the other man’s company, as piss poor as it usually was.  He was handsome and seemingly unphased by Duo’s casual flirtations.  There was a safety in that, being able to come on to someone you were attracted to with zero expectation of actually having to follow through on it.  He’d acted the same toward Quatre and Trowa until he realized it hurt both men, then he’d stopped.  But he and Heero were just friends and the guy was utterly clueless anyhow, so he didn’t see the harm.  He still knew next to nothing personal about the other man, but they got along well, they joked in the stilted Yuy fashion, and they were fucking unmatched on missions.

Really, it made sense that when the time came to break up one of the last big bad terrorist factions he and Heero were on the short list of people to be assigned the mission.  It was an infiltration gig, and Trowa probably should have been the inside man, but the fucking clown hadn’t come up from the bottom of a bottle in about six months and was on some sort of medical leave, staying with Catherine at the circus.  Maybe if they had all been so forthright with their daemons the whole thing could have been avoided.  That was neither here nor there, and Heero had gone in, as this group leaned more toward information espionage and less toward blowing shit up, which was Duo’s stated specialty.

Things had gone well for a month, maybe six weeks.  Then Heero went dark.  Duo waited at their rendezvous points, checked in on their Preventer’s secured lines, and scanned their old encoded wartime frequencies.  Nothing.  At first he hadn’t worried.  Things happened on the inside.  You missed check-ins; you missed multiple check-ins, for christsakes.  But then, the terrorist activity, which had been deescalating, began to steadily increase.  Duo got worried.  Heero could be compromised, could be currently held somewhere in the terrorist stronghold, could be dead.    

Duo cleared it with Wufei, then he went in .  The fact that four of the five ex-Gundam piolets were active Preventers agents was a closely guarded secret, something to do with never having gone to trial for their own war crimes.  So, Heero had gone into the group as himself, and Duo followed suit.  They were terrorists themselves after all and Colonist sympathizers.  According to his initial reports, the faction leaders had welcomed Heero with open arms.  If Heero had been compromised, Duo might be able to go to their initial plan with a large show of disgust for his former partner’s alliance with the governmental powers that be.

It took him another four weeks to work his way in and get introduced to the big bosses.  The first thing he remembered, after the blindfold had been removed from his eyes, was the glaring florescent lights of the conference room and the look of actual, true shock on Heero Yuy’s face.  The man was out of his chair and in Duo’s personal space in the span of a breath.

_“What the fuck are you doing here, Maxwell?”_

_“The same thing as you I’d wager.”_

_“You’d be wrong.”_

He’d been taken to Heero’s rooms.  They’d fought, verbally at first.  Heero wasn’t on the inside, he was calling the shots.  They’d all had training on how to deal with rouge agents, which mostly amounted to a bullet to the fucking cranium.  Duo tried to reason with him, he raged at him, but all to no real effect.  Duo didn’t know this guy; Heero was lost, but, fuck all, Duo was going to find him.  So, he’d knocked the asshole unconscious, which was about as easy to do as it sounded.  He made a call for help to their Preventers contact on what, he was sure, was not a secured line, and then enacted what Wufei testily referred to as the Maxwell Special.  Namely, try to be a fucking sneaky shit and, failing that, shoot the place up and try to get the hell out.

Heero regained consciousness just as Duo was attempting to breach the outermost walls of the compound.  Duo had never seen his eyes like that before or since, so expressively confused and simultaneously like he was coming up for air after a long time submerged under water. 

Then it was all sort of a visceral blur.  Heero was grappling with him for his gun.  Heero was trying to shout an order to their pursuers, but the room was loud and chaotic.  Heero was pushing Duo violently to the ground, shielding him with his own body.  Heero was shot and bleeding all over him.  Duo was putting Heero over his shoulder fireman style and running toward the exit.  It all must have happened so fast because the guard looked surprised to see them, and Duo knocked him unconscious with the butt of his gun.  H e was running down poorly remembered little alleyways.  He could recall in detail the surprising weight of Heero’s body and the hot feeling of the other man’s blood running freely down over his own chest.

He doubled back, and back again, crisscrossing his own bread crumb trail of blood.  When he returned to their safe house night was closing in around him.  He endured 48 of the longest hours of his sorry life staunching Heero’s bleeding and worrying over his too pale face.  He infused his own blood into the too cold body of his partner, because he knew they were both AB.  Because he knew Heero’s blood type but not his mother’s name; he wasn’t even sure if he had known his mother.  He was desperate, and he cried, which was fucking embarrassing, when Wufei showed up after the second day.

They got the bastards in the end.  Heero’s six weeks of work combined with Duo’s four had provided enough information to bring the group down using force from the outside.  Heero was safe back in a hospital on L-1, condition stabilizing, when Duo’s anger arrived.  Before, the immediate task of getting them both out, of keeping them both alive, had superseded any nagging questions of how or why.  Interestingly, his anger informed him that he didn’t actually care about how or why.  He’d let this fucker into his life.  It had been a superficial friendship, but it had been all Duo had been able to give.  Heero had betrayed that.  Then he’d had the goddamn nerve to almost die.  He confronted him in the hospital when a bleary eyed Relena informed him Heero was awake.  He’d wanted to see it for himself.  He didn’t know if they would bring him to trial, or sentence him, but Duo found he didn’t rightly care.  He did know the bastard deserved to live with himself.

Une hadn’t wanted to assign anyone out on long-term undercovers after that, but Duo had informed her, in no uncertain terms, that if she didn’t want him as a field agent as far away from L-1 as possible, she couldn’t have him at all.

That had been all of three years ago, almost four.  He’d kept up as best he could with the others.  He was glad to hear that Trowa was back, was better, seemed to be improving.  Wufei became his primary Preventers contact, he guessed probably because he was so totally under Une’s thumb.  Still, Wufei was reliable, and he seemed to give a shit about Duo, which was nice.  Quatre was running his family business, tastefully pining after Trowa, but trying to give the man the space he clearly needed to work through his own issues, and always, always trying to give Duo updates on Heero.  He hadn’t been brought to trial.  Quatre’s best guess was temporary insanity brought on by his interaction with the Zero system and his childhood training.  Heero claimed not to remember much from the two and a half months of the mission.  He was undergoing intensive therapy.  He was back to work, but only in Technical.  He was not allowed a private office or to have any encoded files on his computer.  He was doing so much better, they rarely screened his computer activity now.  Heero had apologized to them.  He was doing better.  He seemed so much better.

Then Duo had been sent off to L-3.  Then his mission had gone to shit, and he’d missed a few crummy check ins, and they’d pulled him.  He was still too angry, holding onto his rage so tightly because fear could easily follow in its footsteps.   But here, in HQ, Heero was fidgeting with his coat sleeves, giving the smallest of smiles to cadets, and slowly eating away at Duo’s resolve to never, ever forgive the fucking bastard.    

He offered Heero a cigarette, lighting it for him.  Heero studied his face for a long moment, and he was almost sure the other man was trying to puzzle out Duo’s emotions.  Good fucking luck with that.

“I don’t actually remember a lot of it.”

“That’s what I hear.”

“I think they might have drugged me, though that’s not an excuse.  I was highly suggestable anyway.  I don’t have any excuses, truly.”  Duo nodded his assent.  “I should have asked for help sooner.  I knew something was wrong.  I just didn’t know how at the time.  I didn’t have the vocabulary for it.  I knew, in my gut, that I wasn’t fit to go on that mission, but Trowa was as sick as I’ve ever seen him, and I felt like it had to be me.  More than any of my actions, going into that mission knowing I wasn’t 100% put you in danger.  As your partner, that was unacceptable.  So, I’m sorry for that.  And I’m sorry for everything after.”

Duo found himself balanced on the knife’s edge of anger and some other emotion he couldn’t rightly catalogue.  Heero was more visibly nervous than he had ever seen him, tugging at his jacket sleeves before plunging his hands deep inside his coat pockets.

“It didn’t take very long for me to realize what a monumental fuck up I’d been.  I feel that’s how you would have put it.  I’m still trying to fully understand why it happened, and maybe I’ll never know.  I decided I owed it to you, all of you really, to try and work out this thing in my head.  I’m doing it for me now, because that’s how it has to be, but you all were the catalyst.  You mostly.  I still sometimes think it would have been easier on everyone if that bullet had actually nicked the artery and –“

“Don’t fucking say shit like that.”  Heero just shrugged, a drunken, sloppy gesture involving both shoulders, and tipped his head back again against the cool bricks to contemplate the stars.

“I’m sorry in any case.  You don’t have to forgive me, but you should know that I am sorry, at the very least.”

Duo huffed and huddled into his coat.  This could easily constitute one of the longest conversations he’d ever had with Heero Yuy.  “You’re being straight with me?”

A brief pause.  “I’m being as honest with you as I’m being with myself, for whatever that’s worth.”

He believed him, and he figured that deserved to be repaid in kind.  “It made me so fucking angry, ‘cause I apparently didn’t even know you.  I know our standards of friendship weren’t particularly high, but they were as high as they could be for two completely fucked up 18 year olds.  It just damn stung, is all, to be deceived by one of the people on the very short list of folks I gave a shit about.”  He ground out his cigarette with the heel of his boot and immediately lit another one.  He breathed out the puff of fresh smoke and continued more quietly.  “And it fucking scared me.  If it happened to you, it could happen to me.  Easily.  It could have been me.”

That was shocking, and revelatory, and a fucking horrible thing to realize when he was drunk off his ass in an ally.  One of the old ladies from L-2 used to be fond of saying that drunk words were sober thoughts, but he couldn’t ever rightly remember having that thought before 20 seconds ago.  The truth of it hit him like a blow.

“It wouldn’t have been you.  We’re different.”

“We’re not.”

“You’re good.”

“I’m not.”  Heero cursed in Japanese, one of the few phrases Duo recognized in that language.  “I’m trying to forgive you, for what good it’ll do ya’.”

They stood side by side against the wall, lost in their individual thoughts.  Duo was trying to recall if he’d ever had a conversation this open with anyone, aside from Hildie, since his childhood.  He was also thinking he had come to that point in the evening where, in spite of the fact he hadn’t had a drink in maybe an hour, he was still getting progressively drunker.

Heero broke the silence.  “How do you feel?”

“Like absolute shit.  I’d like to find the fuck who first claimed that talking about shit made you feel better.”

Heero barked out a laugh, which took Duo completely off guard before he realized he had absolutely never seen Heero this drunk before.  “We’ll probably feel better tomorrow, aside from the hangovers.”

“That seems to be the way of it.”  Right now, Duo felt more drained than he could ever recall feeling.  It was like the deflated balloon of his anger had left a gaping hole right in the pit of his stomach.  He pressed his palms to the rough coolness of the bricks and tried to concentrate only on that point of contact.

“What should we do now?  Another beer?”

Duo fluttered his eyes open.  “Nah, that dog won’t hunt.**  Let’s get a cab.  It’s fucking Wednesday.  We have to go to work in the goddamn morning.”

Despite everything, when they returned to their apartment complex, Duo found he wanted anything other than to be alone.  So, he slept on Heero’s couch, and at some point in the night he vomited in his toilet.  The next morning they drank coffee and ate toast together.  Duo bemoaned his condition, and Heero retreated back behind something that felt, from the outside, like embarrassment.  They parted ways, wary, as Duo trudged up the flight of stairs to his own apartment.  He was fucking hungover, emotionally exhausted, and his mouth tasted disgusting, but in that blank space left by his anger something very small but warm had taken hold. 

He felt better.  It could be fleeting.  He knew he could get better, but that he might never be well.  He was finding, somehow, that mattered less to him.

Today was good.

After work that evening, he scrounged around in the back of his closet until he found the print Quatre had given him the last Christmas he’d had off between missions, and he hung it on his bedroom wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key to southern phrases, for you Yanks in the crowd:
> 
> *to do something pointless or thoughtless
> 
> **something that won’t act as you expect, or an idea or theory that obviously won’t work.


End file.
